


The Casino

by Dark_And_Twisted_Thing



Category: Casino Royale (2006), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Book References, Crossover, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, Fluff, Inspired by a Movie, Let's Play: Spot the James Bond Characters!, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Series, Protectiveness, Sassy Will Graham, Slow Burn, honestly this has just been a build up to the shower scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_And_Twisted_Thing/pseuds/Dark_And_Twisted_Thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hannibal, we should never have come here.”</p><p>Will shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at the hotel’s front desk and shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He twisted awkwardly to look over his left shoulder, scanning the densely packed parking lot and the bustling lobby with apprehension.</p><p>***</p><p>Hannibal thinks it's time for a nice vacation. Will thinks they should have stayed home. Will is, as usual, completely right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Casino

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen Casino Royale, you are missing out on a lot of asthma inhaler porn, sweat, and close ups of hands playing with poker chips, so go watch it right now. Some portions of this will make limited sense without a rough knowledge of the film. 
> 
> If you have seen Casino Royale - have fun spotting all the cameos and enjoy the shameless line stealing (sshh, it's called a homage, not plagiarism). 
> 
> Inspired by and beta read by [blesser](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blesser/pseuds/blesser) \- my very own murder bestie.

“Hannibal, we should never have come here.”

Will shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at the hotel’s front desk and shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He twisted awkwardly to look over his left shoulder, scanning the densely packed parking lot and the bustling lobby with apprehension.

Hannibal slid smoothly into the space beside him, tilting his head slightly to better observe the body language of the man standing next to him. He felt the discomfort in Will’s posture immediately and sharply, watching as his tensely held frame fought to contain the nervousness which buzzed openly in the air around him. When he had first suggested coming here, Hannibal had known that it would be challenging for Will to rest easy in such a crowded place, but he had hoped that simple reassurances and a casual manner would help to quell the storm brewing in Will’s mind. Apparently, he had been misguided in this hope, and his eyes shifted from observing Will to taking in the crowd of holiday makers milling aimlessly around them. None of these people were a threat. They were tourists and businessmen, rich jet setters who came here to pose languorously next to the pool, lose their money at the casino, and eye each other’s clothing and jewellery over tastefully lit dinner parties. No one here would notice two more well off, expensively dressed guests, and Hannibal had chosen this hotel with the phrase “unable to see the wood for the trees” circling around his head. This place was safe, of that Hannibal was certain, and he placed his hand carefully at the base of Will’s spine to reassure him as they walked forward towards the reception desk.

The desk was large and covered in oversized bouquets of expensive flowers, the simple cut glass vases contrasting pleasingly with the richly marbled surface on which they stood. A slightly pudgy receptionist with a face which seemed to register constant good cheer greeted them politely as they approached, taking the proffered American Express card and prattling happily about the restaurant’s specials, the amenities of the rooms, and the casino’s opening hours. Hannibal listened to him politely, his expression neutral, and stole a look at Will out of the corner of his eye. The obvious nervousness he had exuded from every pore a few moments ago had been tempered slightly, but he remained uncomfortable, regarding the over-eager desk clerk with a mixture of faint bewilderment and distracted detachment.

Finally escaping the clutches of the receptionist with their key cards, Hannibal once again slid his hand smoothly to rest on Will’s back, guiding him through the crowd and towards the opulently gold bank of elevators which lay across the lobby. As they entered the lift, Will spoke again.

“Hannibal. We should never have come here.”

Will repeated the statement more insistently, seemingly displeased with having been ignored the first time. Hannibal regarded him sideways, leaning forward to push the button for their floor as he replied.

“Do you trust me, Will?”

The elevator doors slid shut, and Will allowed himself to grin painfully for a moment.

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Hannibal smiled faintly, an amused expression which made him appear infuriatingly pleased with himself.

“We are quite safe here. I have made sure of it.”

The elevator doors slid open noiselessly, revealing a long corridor of white and gold doors, the dull space of the hallway broken up by luxuriously upholstered chairs, marble topped tables, and more elaborately contrived flower arrangements.

“Marble seems to be very popular in this hotel,” Will observed, stepping into the hall.

Hannibal strolled casually out of the elevator after him and stopped to brush one of the flower petals between his fingers.

“Yes, well, it reassures the guests as to the expensiveness of their surroundings. It was no doubt a very deliberate choice on the part of the decorators.”

They wandered down the empty corridor, with their deserted surroundings temporarily easing the doubts in Will’s mind.

Their suite was large, and was more of an entire apartment than a hotel room - two comfortably appointed double rooms were separated by a spacious living area complete with brocade sofas, yet more marble tables, and an entire garden’s worth of live plants in terracotta pots. A balcony ran along the length of the suite, seamlessly joining the bedrooms and the living space together. Two suitcases perched discretely to the right of the main door, awaiting their arrival. Will took his without a word and disappeared into one of the bedrooms, closing the door firmly behind him.

Perching on the edge of a bed whose crisp, luxurious linens were glowing clean and white in the mid-afternoon sunshine, Will removed his glasses and rested his head in his hands. He did not understand Hannibal’s motivation for coming here, and he suspected that, in spite of his reassurances to the contrary, Hannibal might secretly be spoiling for a fight. The likelihood of either of them being recognised in this country was slim, but certainly not impossible. Their story had graced headlines internationally, and Hannibal’s profile still appeared at number two on the FBI’s Most Wanted list (the number one spot having been recently claimed by some sort of Mexican drug cartel leader, much to Hannibal’s carefully concealed chagrin). While there was certainly only a remote chance of trouble finding them here, there was an even more remote chance of trouble finding them in a small cabin on the outskirts of a forest in France, and Will had only allowed himself to be talked into this by Hannibal’s firm insistence that they could not spend all of their time on lock down in a tiny cabin. For his part, Will would have been content to remain in France, surrounded by the quiet of the woods, the peacefulness of a stream full of fish only a ten minute hike away. However, he thought, replacing his glasses and lifting himself heavily to his feet, this thing was a two way street, and if a bustling city and a crowded hotel was what Hannibal wanted, Will was willing to give it to him. He tossed his suitcase grumpily in the corner and made his way to the bathroom to (hopefully) make himself a little less nervous by sluicing some cold water over his face.

The bathroom was, predictably, covered from floor to ceiling in marble, and Will regarded it with distaste. There was a large bathtub, complete with water jets and adorned with an entire range of expensive looking shampoos and soaps in glass bottles. The shower took up more than half of the room’s space and was enormous, with a drain set discretely into the floor and a glass partition being the only things separating it from the rest of the bathroom. Will stalked directly to the sink, letting his glasses fall with a clatter on the marble vanity as he flipped on the cold tap. He ran the cold water over his fingers before splashing it liberally onto his face, the curls falling into his eyes getting slightly wet in the process. As he raised his head to look at his reflection in the mirror, he caught sight of a tactfully placed suit cover hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Will took a moment to dry his face and hands before unzipping it and taking in the pale brown dinner jacket nestled inside.

***

Hannibal had no desire to make Will feel uncomfortable in this place, but he knew that their self-imposed seclusion was unsustainable at best and unhealthy at worst. Will was incapable of making a move towards re-integration himself, so Hannibal had begun to gently insist upon this trip after he had caught Will talking to himself freely while gutting his daily catch. Destabilisation was the most immediate result of sequestering themselves away for almost three months, but Hannibal suspected that the situation would only become worse were it allowed to develop unchecked. He had chosen Montenegro for its busy streets and its bustling city centre, but also for its lack of an extradition treaty and its relative disinterest in the proceedings of the world outside its boarders. The possibility of being recognised had certainly occurred to him, but he did not feel the risk to be unnecessarily high, and he knew that his carefully constructed style and charming manner would carry him far and unnoticed in this particular circle. He meandered around the sumptuously appointed room aimlessly, touching various pieces of pointless decoration and overwrought upholstery with disinterest, before coming to rest on the edge of the chair positioned deliberately close to the open balcony doors. The sounds of the city around the hotel reached faintly into the room, and he felt a sense of peace wash over him as he took in the noise and the smell of a busy city once more. He was a city dweller at heart, and he had missed the ebb and flow of this world greatly, both while he was locked in Alana’s windowless dungeon and while he was sharing an isolated cabin with Will. Neither situation had been a cause of particular discomfort to him, but his long dulled senses had immediately come alive from the moment he had stepped off the airplane at Montenegro’s airport, and he was determined to enjoy all the city could offer him for as long as Will’s overwrought nerves would allow them to remain here.

His revelry was disturbed by the sound of Will crashing towards the room, suit jacket in hand, his features set in an expression of annoyance.

“Hannibal, I do have a dinner jacket.”

Hannibal brushed an invisible piece of lint from his trouser leg.

“There are dinner jackets and then there are dinner jackets. This is the latter.”

Will stared at the jacket, holding it up in an accusatory manner.

“It’s tailored,” Will said, his voice hovering between disbelief and irritation.

“Yes, well, I sized you up the moment we met. I had it made for you while we were still in France.”

Will pointedly ignored the quip about being sized up and returned to his room, his door snapping shut with a hint of petulance.

Hannibal sighed and shut his eyes, his thoughts turning to the prospect of dinner.


	2. Dinner and Drinks

 

Like everything else within its walls, the hotel’s restaurant was large and ludicrously over-decorated, and Will rested uneasily on one of its chairs, his body positioned to face the door. In spite of his objections to being dressed up in Hannibal’s clothes, he had worn the camel coloured jacket and the flamboyantly stripped tie, the uncomfortable nature of his outfit reminding him faintly of the clothes given to him by Mason Verger to wear to his self-congratulatory dinner party. He tapped absently at the table with his knife, letting the steady sound of the metal hitting the table edge sooth him slightly as he took in the occupants of the room. The tables were mostly filled with impeccably dressed tourists who prattled away endlessly in a mixture of languages, their easy smiles and inattention to their surroundings mildly reassuring Will of the safety of his position. His attention was momentarily caught by a man in a black suit who sat inconspicuously at a table on the outer edge of the room, his back to their table, and his rigid posture and slight tilt of the head reminding Will of something he could not place. Will felt a set of fingers close gently around his wrist, and he started uneasily at the touch, staring down at Hannibal’s hand as it pried the knife from his grasp.

“That sound is unbearably annoying, Will.” 

Will said nothing, letting his attention wander again to the man in the corner of the room. He observed the man’s table with more interest, caught by the set of deliberately placed men in matching grey suits positioned at even intervals around the edges of the man’s space. He leaned forward to Hannibal, who was reading the wine list with something like eagerness on his face.

“Hannibal, I think those men over there have guns.”

Hannibal glanced up from his menu and turned to follow Will’s gaze to the corner of the room. 

“Yes, it would appear so. No doubt they are there provide protection for the man sitting at that table.”

Looking a little more unsettled than usual, Will slumped back in his chair, his mind combing over the possible reasons for such an elaborate level of security. 

For his part, Hannibal had no interest whatsoever in the man in the black suit, his thoughts briefly settling on the comforting idea that the man’s obvious security would draw even more attention away from them, before returning to contemplate the menu in front of him.

Will began tapping absently at the table edge again, this time with his fork, his attention still fixed obviously on the man in the corner of the room. Hannibal sighed and let his menu drop, closing his fingers again around Will’s wrist and leaning across the table. 

“Will, should that man become of any consequence to us during our stay here, we will certainly be able to deal with that situation when the time comes. For now, I would suggest you stop tapping at the table and think about the possibility of eating something.”

Will pulled his eyes away from the mysterious man with difficulty and flashed Hannibal a nervous grin. 

“Sorry. I’ll do my best.”

Hannibal nodded minutely and let go of Will’s wrist, returning to the menu once more. Will looked at him for a few moments before allowing his fork to resume its tapping. The corner of Hannibal’s eye twitched slightly, but he did not look up again. After a few moments, the expression on his face turned to one of soft amusement.

“Should you feel the need to annoy me Will, I will allow you to do so with good grace.”

A smile ghosted around the edges of Will’s lips as he placed his fork pointedly on the table and picked up his own menu.

***

There was some sort of event going on at the hotel, and the guests who were already there buzzed with an air of palpable excitement. From his seat at the hotel’s bar, Will could see the expensive cars and the lavishly dressed persons emerging from them. He drank his whiskey straight and let his gaze wander over the procession of tried travellers listening wearily to the same pudgy faced and over-eager desk clerk who had enthusiastically plied Hannibal with information earlier. 

After dinner, Hannibal had returned to his room, clearly wishing to give Will some time on his own, and realising that he would rest slightly more easily knowing that he was not sharing his personal space with a wanted criminal. Will had been sitting at the bar for some time, the effects of the alcohol soothing him gradually into a more peaceful state of mind. After a while, a casually dressed man with a precisely trimmed beard and an air of joviality sidled down the bar to join him. 

“What are you drinking, friend?”

Will scanned him quickly, registering that his casual posture was mostly contrived and his American accent was genuine, but failing to see any real threat behind his eyes. The man was most likely not what he appeared to be, but Will did not believe he was here to search for an escaped serial killer. He pivoted slightly in his seat to fully face the man standing next to him.

“Whiskey, straight up.”

The man grinned.

“Ah, a man after my own heart, I see. Let me get you one of those - us down to earth Yanks need to stick together in a place like this.”

Will accepted the stranger’s offer of a drink and let the man perch on the bar stool next to his without question. The man looked him over obviously before addressing him again.

“You don’t look totally comfortable in those clothes, my friend. I see you more as the cargo pants and t-shirt type.”

Pulling the cuffs of his shirt awkwardly down past his jacket sleeves, Will agreed with him.

“I have a friend who thought I should attempt to be better dressed.”

The stranger smiled affably.     

“Ah, the things we will do to please our friends, am I right?”

Will lifted his eyebrows resignedly and nodded before they tipped their glasses to each other and drank. 

 


	3. Guess Who’s Drunk and Invading All of Your Personal Space?

Hannibal had taken an extremely satisfying shower in the opulent bathroom, letting the searing hot water run over his travel weary muscles for a long while. He stood under the spray, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted upwards, and contemplated the excellence of the meal he had enjoyed. His mind wandered to Will’s petulant gesture with the fork, and he smiled faintly. Much of what Will was depended on his ability to maintain his good humour in dire circumstances, and Hannibal had always known that Will was a fairly humorous person who had been consistently thrust into humourless situations. He remembered an almost unconscious Will tied to a chair at his dinner table in Florence, complaining about the quality of the soup he was being fed, and he smiled a little more broadly. 

Dragging himself reluctantly from the warmth of the shower, Hannibal wrapped himself in a robe and wandered out to the balcony. He leant his elbows on the edge of the railing, hands clasped over the edge, and looked out onto the city at night. A cool breeze stirred the trees, but the night was warm and dry, the stars overhead shining as brightly as they could behind a faintly orange curtain of light pollution. Hannibal thought of the stars as they shone clear and cold in the black air above the cabin he shared with Will, and he felt an unexpected pang of homesickness. His life in France with Will was perhaps more isolated than was healthy, but he found it to be satisfying in most respects. The home they had made was comfortable and simple, and the eclectic mixture of their styles and tastes which was originally born of necessity was slowly transforming into something like domesticity. Hannibal knew that he would enjoy his time in this city, but he was subconsciously aware that he would also be pleased to return home. 

Stepping back into the room, Hannibal located his sketch book and pencil before retiring to bed. He stretched out on top of the covers in his robe, his sketch of the city taking shape slowly as he momentarily closed his eyes to ensure he was correctly recalling the details he was drawing. Tired from the journey and the effort of keeping Will’s nervous energy contained, he fell asleep. 

He woke to the sound of a crash in the living room, and he immediately tensed before relaxing once more as a familiar voice cursed the stupidity of putting a chair directly in front of the door. Will appeared presently, looking a little worse for wear and smelling strongly of whisky. Hannibal looked at him with a stern expression. 

“Will, where is your tie?”

Will glanced down at his shirt front with confusion before shrugging. 

“I think I gave it to an American I met downstairs.”

“I see. And was this American in need of a tie?”

Will contemplated this question for a moment before replying.

“No, I don’t think so. But it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

Hannibal closed his eyes in mock frustration. 

“I am happy to see that you are feeling more at peace here, Will, but I am not sure why you would feel the need to give your clothes to a stranger.”

Sauntering into the room, Will removed his jacket and hung it neatly over the back of a chair. He kicked off his shoes and crawled onto the bed beside Hannibal, laying down next to him with a tired groan. 

Hannibal observed him with amusement, fully aware that he was most likely a little drunk. He had seen Will in a somewhat less than sober state a handful of times, and he had never ceased to find it charming. 

Will fell asleep almost immediately, still fully clothed and with his glasses digging in to his face. Hannibal removed them carefully and placed them on the table beside the bed. He switched off the light and slid down into the space beside Will. The breeze from the open balcony doors stirred the thin gossamer curtains gently, and the room was bathed in a faint light from the street lamps which glowed outside. After a few moments, Will groggily flung an arm over Hannibal’s chest and spoke lazily, still half asleep.

“I found out what’s going on at the hotel.”

Hannibal turned his head to look at Will’s face as it gazed up at him sleepily from the pillow.

“Oh?”

Will nodded and closed his eyes again as he spoke.

“Poker. They’re all playing poker.”


	4. Good Morning, Will

Hannibal had woken early, and the first rays of summer sunshine were just beginning to peek through the windows as he opened his eyes. He had always been an early riser, awaking totally and without preamble as soon as the dawn broke. He found being up and alert before most people had even reached out groggily to silence their alarms had its advantages, and he had not thought to fight his natural sleep pattern. The scents of crisp morning air and stale whiskey reached his nose as he lay still for a while, listening to the even breathing of the man sleeping next to him. Extracting himself gently from underneath Will’s arm, he ran his fingers lightly through the tangled mess of Will’s curls before sliding from the bed and moving noiselessly out of the room. The living room was in near darkness, the sun not yet having reached the windows here, and Hannibal paused a moment to allow his eyes time to acclimate to the dimness. Not wishing to disturb his drowsing guest, he moved through the room’s heavy thicket of furniture, making his way to Will’s deserted bedroom in order to use the _en suite_. Hannibal ran himself a bath, perching on the edge of the tub while he perused the hotel’s complimentary range of expensive blended soaps and lotions. Settling finally on an elaborately scented bath oil far removed from the plain bars of antiseptic smelling soap provided for him during his stay at the BSHCI, he sank gratefully into the hot water and shut his eyes.    

***

Opening his eyes and emitting a slightly undignified grunt, Will pressed the back of his hand into his forehead and squinted at the room around him through heavy eyelids. The morning light streamed in through windows, and the day outside was shaping up to be glorious. Will flipped on to his back slowly, realising with some confusion that he was still wearing his clothes. Without turning his aching head, he reached out unsteadily for his glasses, frowning when he was unable to locate them on the bedside table. What on earth had he done last night, he wondered, his mind running over the possible reasons behind waking to find himself clothed, fighting an unpleasant morning headache, and unable to find his glasses. He pushed himself up with difficulty, and sat with his back against the headboard. Turning his head to scan the room, he finally spotted his glasses, folded neatly atop a black leather sketch book. Will winced. 

“ _Hannibal’s sketch book,”_ he thought, registering that he must have slept in Hannibal’s room.  

Scrubbing furiously at his face in an effort to clear his clouded mind, he leaned across the bed and retrieved his glasses.

He wandered out into the living room in search of Hannibal, shading his eyes with the palm of his hand and wishing desperately for painkillers. Hannibal was nowhere to be seen, and Will felt a twitch of worry as he glanced hopefully onto the deserted balcony. 

“Hannibal?”

Will walked towards his own room, rubbing light circles into his lower back in an attempt to ease the ache of having slept while wearing a belt. 

“Hannibal?” 

He opened the door to his bathroom, and was greeted immediately by a cloud of heavily scented steam. 

“Hannibal? Overcompensating for Alana’s bad soap?”

Hannibal’s voice emanated from the steam. 

“Good morning, Will. I trust you slept well.”

Will fought his way through the blanket of steam to find the sink. 

“I would have slept better without the dress shirt and belt,” he answered, once again flipping on the cold tap to splash some water over his face. He ran his hand through the fog on the mirror, and looked mournfully at his reflection.  

Hannibal slicked his wet hair back with his hand, and observed Will over the edge of the bath.

“I did consider waking you to dress you more appropriately, but you seemed less than mindful of your clothing, so I allowed you to sleep.”

Grimacing slightly, Will reached around to untuck his dress shirt from his waistband.

“I’ve lost my tie. I gave it to some American I met.”

Hannibal chuckled.

“Yes, you informed me of that last night."

“I do have another one. It’s a little less…flamboyant though.”

“Any tie will do, Will.” 

Will glanced up at Hannibal without turning, looking at him through the rapidly vanishing patch of clear mirror.

“I’m hungry. Do you want some breakfast?”

Hannibal disappeared past the edge of the bath once more, sinking back down into the searing hot water while he replied.

“That would be lovely.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bonus chapter today, since both of these are quite short. Thank you so much for the comments and kudos - every single one makes me grin like a Bond villain with an evil plan, and you guys are all totally amazing. xxx


	5. Ships in the Night

Will felt considerably better once he had showered, calling a temporary truce with the marble and genuinely enjoying himself as he let the last of his mild hangover swirl down the drain. Hannibal had provided him with some aspirin, pressing the tablets into Will’s palm wordlessly before sauntering off to dress and order some room service. Will had swallowed the pills dry and had undressed rapidly, grateful to finally be out of the clothing he had never intended to wear for such an extended period. Once he had finally pulled himself from the shower, he dressed in his own clothes with relief, feeling less awkward and more like himself now he had stopped playing dress up. He emerged from his room, wiping the lingering traces of steam from his glasses while leaning casually against the doorframe. 

Hannibal had dressed, ordered breakfast, and was currently engaged in attempting to politely rid himself of the seemingly omnipresent desk clerk, who had, for some reason, apparently brought them their room service cart.  

“…and its just such a lovely day out, you really have to try it,” he was saying, his broad American accent and his infectious grin beginning to win Will over. Will, perhaps to his discredit, never ceased to find the sight of an annoyed Hannibal amusing, and he warmed conspiratorially towards the eager little man’s ability to be both infuriatingly polite and deeply irritating. 

“…yes, well, thank you for the information, I will certainly bear it in mind.” 

Hannibal was ushering his unwanted friend firmly towards the door, and the man was backing up steadily while continuing to talk. 

“I do really hope you will think about it, there’s such a lot you can do, and you would love to see the paintings, I’m sure. There’s even a few Renaissance paintings there, and there’s a lovely picture of William Blake’s. I think its one of the illustrations he did for Dante’s _Divine Comedy_.”

Hannibal opened the door to their suite and deftly boxed the man out into the corridor. 

“Thank you very much, you have been very informative, as always.”

The clerk grinned. 

“You’re welcome, sir, let me know if you need anything else…” he leaned forward and met Hannibal’s eyes insistently, “…anything _at all._ I’m your man.” 

Hannibal looked down at him curiously, and stepped back to restore the distance between them.

“Of course.”

Waving cheerfully, the man disappeared down the corridor.

Closing the door with relief, Hannibal turned and saw Will.

“Trying a little too hard to be helpful, I think,” he said, looking a little steamrollered. 

Will suppressed a smile and took a seat close to the room service trolley. 

Hannibal regaled him with possible plans for their day throughout the duration of breakfast, but he looked neither disappointed nor surprised when Will suggested staying at the hotel. They had provisionally booked the suite for two weeks, and Hannibal had no desire to push Will into action too soon, particularly as getting him here had been a challenge in itself. With a quiet day of relaxation and good food appealing to them both, a trip around the gardens surrounding the hotel was settled upon, and they had finished their breakfast with something like eagerness at the prospect of the day before them. 

They emerged from their room at last, making their way towards the hotel’s gardens companionably, Hannibal with his sketch pad and Will with his book. As they approached the elevator at the end of the corridor, the doors swept open, and an impeccably dressed dark haired woman wearing an expression of mild irritation strode out. As they parted politely to allow her to pass, Hannibal’s sketch book slipped from his grasp, and he bent to retrieve it. The woman smiled graciously at Will as she made her way towards her room, the smell of tastefully applied expensive perfume trailing in her wake. Hannibal tilted his head in appreciation, noting that the woman understood the art of utilising scents remarkably well. 

The elevator took them down into the hotel’s lobby, and the doors slid open to reveal a teaming foyer, the entire space alight with activity. 

“The hotel is pretty popular this morning,” Will said flatly, unimpressed with the sheer volume of people who greeted them as they stepped from the lift.

Will fervently hoped the garden was not as busy as the lobby, and he paused momentarily to scan the crowd, entertaining the hope that he might locate his erstwhile friend from last night and retrieve his missing tie. Instead, he found the mysterious man from the restaurant once again, still wearing black in spite of the heat. He was speaking quietly into a mobile phone, a hit of tightly coiled aggression evident in his posture, and he stood with his back to the elevators, still denying Will a glimpse of his face. As he spoke, he made a frustrated gesture towards an underdressed (or perhaps overdressed, Will was unable to decide) blonde girl who lounged on one of the lobby benches, her oversized sunglasses dangling from her hand as she waited for him to finish. The man’s obvious security from the previous night seemed to have either vanished or discovered the art of discretion, and there was no sign of the armed men in matching grey suits. The man in black ended his call and offered the lady his hand, the pair of them vanishing down the set of sweeping steps which lead to the hotel’s casino. Will was denied the opportunity to think on the matter further as Hannibal put a gentle hand on his shoulder and propelled him firmly in the direction of the exit. 

“I am sure the gardens will not be this crowded, Will. I believe most of these guests are here for the casino and not to admire the greenery.”

As they stepped out of the hotel’s revolving doors and into the crisp heat of the morning, a well built blonde man clutching a manila envelope and smiling to himself jogged lightly towards the hotel’s entrance. Apparently preoccupied, he crashed almost directly into them.  

“Sorry, gentleman,” he said, his English accent making the apology sound endearingly disarming. 

“Not at all,” Hannibal returned, the two of them briefly vying for the position of ‘most charming man in the parking lot’. 

The Englishman disappeared through the doors, smiling apologetically in their general direction without really looking at them, and Hannibal continued to steer Will in the direction of the gardens.


	6. Somebody's Watching You...

The day passed quickly and without event. The gardens surrounding the hotel were capacious enough to effectively hide the guests within their boarders, creating a sense of solitude and tranquility despite the numerous people who were milling about. Will had found a quiet bench in the shade of a tree, settling down to read and watch Hannibal while he first sketched out their surroundings and later drew Will as he sat with his book clutched absently between his fingers. 

Lunch had been enjoyed thoroughly, and Hannibal had sent his compliments to the chef. Will did not see the man in black again during the day, nor did he find his jovial American friend. He was, however, beginning to feel slightly less ill at ease, and his mind was slowly drifting off into a sort of peaceful contentment as the day crawled steadily forward into evening. He sat comfortably at the bar while Hannibal wandered off in search of a local newspaper, and he watched the ebb and flow of traffic in the hotel’s lobby once more. The guests who were dressed in crisp white shirts and simple suit jackets during the day began to disappear, reappearing some time later in black tie, their ladies adorning their necks with diamonds and gold. Will spotted the blonde girl from earlier, without her black suited companion, and wearing an unnecessarily revealing violent yellow dress. He wondered if the man in black was there to play poker.  

Hannibal returned, a faint frown on his face, his newspaper dangling forgotten from his hand. 

“Will, what kind of poker game did you say was going on here?”

Will thought for a moment, his mind scrabbling about hastily for the details of his largely hazy conversation with the American from the bar.

“High stakes, I think. Some kind of very exclusive thing. I assume it’s why all the people around here are wearing black tie. Seems a bit excessive for a normal game. Why?”

Hannibal frowned a little more deeply. 

“I just received a very odd look from a gentleman outside. Large man, trying to look comfortable in a suit but not succeeding, and obviously unversed in the subtleties of undercover observation.”

Panic rose up inside Will’s mouth, and he could taste its sharp metallic tang on his tongue. 

“Did he know who you were?”

“I do not believe so. But it was noteworthy all the same. I assumed he was also here for the event, but his clothing seemed out of place in comparison to everyone else’s.”

Will began to feel a familiar sense of unease wash over him, but Hannibal appeared largely unaffected, shrugging slightly and leaning casually on the bar.

“Ah well, whatever he was, he did not appear to be the type of man who would favour police interference in his business.”

“That’s hardly reassuring, Hannibal.”

Hannibal waved the bartender over politely.

“Think nothing more of it,” he smiled, “I believe your nervousness is rubbing off on me.”

In truth, Hannibal was perhaps a little more concerned about the interaction than he cared to let on. He had not imagined the cognisant spark of satisfaction in the awkwardly dressed man’s eyes, nor had he failed to notice how the man’s head had turned to follow him as he had returned to the hotel. Hannibal knew the man was not a member of law enforcement (correctly assuming that quite the opposite may be true), but he was sure that the man had shown an interest in him, and the fact was worrying. Ordering drinks for himself and Will, Hannibal pondered his options. He wondered if the poker game going on here was likely to have attracted some criminal elements, and the idea concerned him - criminals meant lawmakers, and Hannibal inwardly cursed the poor foresight which had seen him choose this hotel without prior knowledge of the game. Montenegro’s lack of an extradition treaty was certainly a comfort, but Hannibal still had no desire to be spotted here, knowing that a sighting may serve to reignite the story his three month absence from the world had begun to stifle.   

Eventually, Hannibal settled unhappily on the idea of getting some further information about the guests and the game from the perky desk agent, knowing that the man’s desire to please and his position at the hotel would make information gathering easy. 

He finished his drink and turned to Will.

“Perhaps you should return to the room for a while, Will. You seem uneasy again.”

“Do you think we should separate?” Will asked, shifting nervously.

“You have a phone, you can let me know if you need anything. I am sure your unease is unfounded, but I am going to speak to our friend who brought us breakfast. He may be able to give me a little more information. I will not be long.”

Still looking doubtful, Will eventually slid from the barstool and disappeared in the direction of the elevators, taking Hannibal’s newspaper with him.

Hannibal pondered the idea of getting another drink in order to dull the pain of his upcoming interaction with the desk agent, but he rejected the idea and opted for taking this particular bullet straight. He strolled over to the front desk, his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the edge of the counter. The excitable desk clerk was, as Hannibal had predicted, amazingly chatty, and Hannibal allowed some leaflets for various local attractions to be thrust into his hands before steering the conversation towards the poker game.

“You seem to have a great many gamblers here. Is there an event in the casino?”

“Oh yeah, there’s a lot of people turning up for a super high stakes poker game. It’s tonight. Ten million dollar buy in.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows.

“How many players?”

“Oh quite a few sir. Maybe eleven or so - quite a few more have turned up to watch.”

“Is anyone of particular interest playing?”

The clerk laughed. 

“I can’t really tell you about that, sir. Guest privacy and all. But you might recognise some of them for sure.”

The man fixed him with a meaningful look, and Hannibal was struck with the odd feeling that the clerk was trying to tell him something in an indirect way. Before he could continue his train of thought, he felt his phone vibrating gently in his pocket. Will had sent him a text message, and it flashed up on the screen as Hannibal excused himself for a moment to read it. 

_“Come upstairs. It’s important.”_

Hannibal frowned, addressing the desk clerk politely. 

“Excuse me, it seems I have to return to my room. I appreciate the leaflets,” he said, walking away from the desk and waving at the clerk with his handful of pamphlets. 

“No problem sir - lovely to talk to you. Give me a bell if you need help with anything,” the man called after him. 

Tucking the leaflets into the breast pocket of his suit, Hannibal entered the elevator. He was faintly concerned about Will, but felt no sense of real trepidation. Will’s nerves had been strained from the moment they had arrived here, and his message rang no alarm bells in Hannibal’s mind. If anything, Hannibal was mildly annoyed at Will, irritated that he had chosen to interrupt his delicate operation with the desk clerk. Hannibal’s efforts on that front had not been completely in vain, but he had been forced to abandon the conversation far too early, and he was less than thrilled at the prospect of having to continue it later due to Will’s message.

It was therefore with an air of some irritation that he flung open the door to their suite, striding into the room and discarding the handful of tourism leaflets on the coffee table. Momentarily puzzled by the lack of light in the room, Hannibal glanced around briefly before flipping the lights on and spying Will standing outside on the balcony. Will had his back to the door, and there was a tense energy in his posture that Hannibal noted immediately. Hannibal strode out onto the balcony, rounding the door frame as he addressed Will’s back.

“So? What? What is so damn important?”

Will turned to him quickly, and Hannibal had no time to take in his expression before feeling the urgent press of Will’s lips against his own. 

“ _I’m being kissed,”_ Hannibal thought dumbly, barely registering anything beyond the wetness of the mouth enveloping his. 

Will’s fingers wrapped around his jaw, and Hannibal lost the ability to feel anything but the points where their skin was touching. He stood stupidly, his arms by his side, and allowed himself to be caught completely off guard by the thin rope which was wrapped around his neck from behind. Hannibal felt strong arms drag him back by the neck as he was wrenched away from Will’s mouth.

Will opened his mouth, his face wracked by guilt and fear, and he reached out for Hannibal as he was dragged backwards into the living room. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and Hannibal saw a pair of arms wrap around Will’s shoulders before loosing sight of him completely.

 


	7. Invaders

Will had been unhappy about this entire situation from the moment he had spied the man in black and all of his security. His mind had been caught by the idea that the man was most likely a very well to do criminal, and he had (much like Hannibal) drawn the conclusion that criminals always trail the law in their wake. Will’s discomfort had only been increased by his conversation with Hannibal at the bar, and his hackles were well and truly raised by the time he made it back to their hotel room. Leaving Hannibal alone to his investigation with the desk agent had done nothing to alleviate his fears, and Will’s mind was racing as he opened the door to their suite. He entered the room and slammed the door behind him, contemplating packing all of their things right away, and urging Hannibal to leave this place when he returned. He flung Hannibal’s newspaper on the couch, switched on the lights, and began to make his way towards his bedroom. Before he could open his door, however, it was opened for him, and Will had almost collided with an extremely large man holding a gun. Staring at the man dumbly for a few seconds, Will had heard the unmistakable sound of a gun’s safety clicking off, realising with a sinking heart that the sound had emanated from behind him. 

“ _At least two of them then_ ,” he thought, his mind running through his options quickly as the man before him advanced, pushing him further back into the room. 

The man was clearly African, and his bright orange shirt and tie contrasted sharply with his black skin. Will’s eyes flitted down to the automatic handgun clutched in the man’s hand, and he decided almost immediately that this was a fight he could not win. 

“Good evening,” the man said amiably, flashing him a smile which was all teeth. 

“Good evening,” Will returned steadily, knowing something about dealing with obviously dangerous individuals brandishing weapons, and not wishing to antagonise him. 

“I think you might have the wrong room,” Will said, flashing the man a smile of his own.

The man laughed suddenly, tilting his head back and waving the gun towards Will.

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said, his accent coming through clearly as he spoke. “I have come for my money.”

Will realised quite quickly that his quip about the man having the incorrect room might have been more accurate than he had initially thought. 

“I am sure,” the man continued, “that you do not have it. However, I think your boyfriend might.” 

The man tilted the gun to and fro in a gesture of uncertainty before continuing. 

“…or he might not. It seems most likely that he does not, and _that_ is a serious problem.”

Will was genuinely bewildered at this stage, and he stared at the man stupidly.

“My what?” he said, backing up further.

The man clicked his tongue.

“Your boyfriend. My man here has seen you two together. All day, you have been sitting in the garden, enjoying yourself, and now it is time to come back down to earth and tell me what has happened to my money.” 

Completely unsure of how to proceed in this situation, Will decided on an attempt to gain a little more information from the man, knowing that outright denials would get him nowhere. 

“And what makes you think he has your money?”

A hand came up and slapped him roughly in the face.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy,” the man said, his face flashing hot and angry as he loomed over Will menacingly. 

“Ok?” replied Will, a little doubtfully. 

The man laughed again, reaching up and patting Will’s slapped cheek in a gesture of mock sympathy.

“Oh, don’t worry, you are not the one I wish to speak too. But I want you to get your boyfriend up here right now. Him I wish to see.”

“Absolutely not,” Will told him. 

Will was many things, but a coward he was not, and he had no intention of luring Hannibal into any kind of trap. Hannibal belonged to no one but him, and if he was going to be caught by anyone at any stage, Will would be the one to decide who and where.

Sighing and rubbing at his sweat damp face with his free hand, the man with the gun looked at Will thoughtfully.

“Well, boy, you have a lot of loyalty. It is something I breed in my own people, and I pleased to see it is not dead. But I do not have any patience for this right now, and I have all the advantages here.”

The man gestured to the sofa with his gun.

“Sit, sit. Let us talk for a moment.”

Will backed up cautiously, never taking his eyes from the man’s face, and easing himself down on the sofa without turning. The man sat opposite him, reclining gracefully into his chair and letting the gun rest on his knee as he spoke. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way, you take out your phone, you send a message, you get him up here, and you walk away. Hard way, we take your phone, we send the message, we get him up here, and you don’t walk away. You crawl away, bleeding and wondering if they can put your arm back on if you get it on ice quick enough.” 

Will looked at the man opposite him, letting his eyes stray briefly over the second man in the room, who was cracking open his coat slightly to allow for a clearer view of the machete he carried. Leaning forward and letting his elbows rest on his knees, Will looked up at the man with the gun and knew he was completely serious in his threat. He read the man without difficulty, seeing his ill concealed anger and the betrayal of trust which was the cause of it in a single glance. Given the nature of the weapons they had chosen, Will guessed that they were most likely either arms dealers or leaders of one of Africa’s numerous and misnamed “freedom fighting” gangs - possibly both. His mind flashed briefly to a mud covered tent in an African rainforest, and he saw the man in front of him making a deal to buy and sell weapons with a criminal who he now thought was Hannibal. 

The man leaned forward, training the gun squarely on Will’s chest.

“Here is what you are going to do, boy. You are going to send this message, go out onto the balcony, and wait for your boyfriend to coming running up. I need him distracted, so you are going to kiss him. We are then going to make sure he is not in any position to threaten us, and we are going to have a little talk.” 

He leaned back and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Nothing more. If he can get us our money, we all go away happy. And I am sure he _will_ be able to get us our money, aren’t you?”

Thinking furiously, Will weighed up his options. He could try and take these men out himself. He was unarmed, smaller than they were, and inexperienced at fighting. This scenario, he decided, would most likely end up with him dead, seriously wounded, or unconscious - all outcomes which would leave him useless to Hannibal. He could try to stall for time, hope that Hannibal would return to the room quickly, and pray that these men would not get the drop on him. This, he thought, was probably an unrealistic plan, as stalling for time was something the man with the gun would most likely be familiar with as a tactic to delay violence. Trying to stall would only make the man more agitated, and result in further threats or actual harm coming to him (again, making him useless to Hannibal). He could try explaining to these men that Hannibal was not who they thought he was, but he discarded this idea quickly, knowing they would not believe him, and thinking that an attempt to explain how his cannibalistic serial killer was absolutely not an arms dealer would probably end badly. His fourth option was to go along with their plan, get Hannibal up here, and hope that they could best these two men in a fair fight. Will had seen the outcome of Hannibal’s altercation with Tobias Budge, and knew that he was able to handle himself fairly well in a physical fight. Granted, that particular altercation had taken place several years ago, but their fight with the Dragon had not, and Hannibal had done pretty well for a forty-nine year old man with a bullet in his belly. 

Will remembered the taste of blood between his teeth as Hannibal pulled back to expose the Dragon’s throat, and he knew which option he was going to choose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the sporadic updates! I am determined to make it up to you, so I will post another chapter tomorrow which will contain some (very) minor pocket square porn and a sprinkling of fluff (among other things).


	8. The Fight

“I am sure he can get your money,” Will told the man with the gun. “My phone is in my pocket. Shall I get it, or do you want to?”

The man grinned happily.

“Ah, nah, boy - I trust you! You just get it out slow and let us see what you write before you send it. Don’t you be trying anything clever, or…,” he gestured to the man with the machete meaningfully. 

Will took out his phone, and scrolled down to Hannibal’s number. A part of him felt terrible about doing this, and he hoped fervently that he had made the right choice. No part of him thought there was a better way of handling the situation, but his betrayal hung heavy in his heart in spite of his good intentions. He composed his message and flashed the screen up to the man before him.

“Ok?” he asked.

The man nodded, and Will sent the message, his muscles tensing for the fight which lay ahead. He had no doubt that they would fight and probably win, but he was aware of the danger of this situation nevertheless. He also knew that winning would not necessarily mean the end of their troubles, and he felt an unexpected pang of fear at the prospect of Hannibal being hurt.

Getting up slowly and never taking the gun off of Will, the man pointed to the balcony. 

“Go out there and wait for him. Don’t you make any moves before he gets here, and you will wait for him to come to you when he does, do you understand? Once he gets out there, I want you to kiss him good and hard. Make sure he isn’t thinking about anything but you. My man here is going to go out there with you to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. You make a false move, and -,” he made a slicing motion across his throat with his finger. “You get me?”

“I get you,” Will said, pushing himself to his feet and waking cautiously out to the balcony. 

He positioned himself in full view of the door and placed his hands on the railing. Presently, he heard the lights click off in the room behind him, and he heard the second man move out to join him on the balcony. Without turning, Will worked out that the man had taken up a position on the right hand side of the door, concealing himself effectively and keeping Will within easy reach. Will mentally scanned the layout of the room behind him, playing out the possible scenarios in his head while he waited for Hannibal to arrive. Will surmised that this man would want to go for shock and awe once Hannibal was here, wishing to express his anger and disgust in a physical display of force, and probably intending to be violent from the start of their interaction. Guessing that the tactic with the kiss was most likely designed to ensure Hannibal would be unguarded and remain with his back to the room for a few moments, Will assumed that the man intended to creep up from behind and catch Hannibal around the neck with a garrotte (hitting him over the head being most likely to cause unconsciousness or drowsiness, neither of which would be conducive to conversation). From there, it seemed reasonable to assume that he would drag Hannibal backwards into the room, leaving his friend to ensure Will was unable to offer assistance by restraining him. Will quickly formulated a plan to overcome the second man, being aware that he was likely to rely on brute force and his gun to maintain his control - neither of which would present a problem if the man was temporarily distracted.

Will heard the click of the door as Hannibal let himself into the room. Feeling his shoulders tighten, Will could sense his body turn rigid with coiled anticipation. Hannibal moved out onto the balcony briskly, and addressed him in an irritated tone. 

“So? What? What is so damn important?”

Will turned and kissed him. 

Hannibal stayed stock still, and Will could sense the shock registering in his posture as their mouths met. Without thinking, Will reached up and pressed his hand into Hannibal’s face, feeling the muscles in his jaw tense against his fingers. They both shut their eyes. The world around them vanished, and for a brief moment, this was all there was for either of them. 

Will broke the kiss, barely opening his eyes before Hannibal was wrenched away from him. He had correctly predicted the garrotte, and the sight of Hannibal’s shocked and instantly pained face made him temporarily forget his plan.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching out uselessly for Hannibal’s disappearing figure. 

A pair of strong hands descended rapidly as the man with him on the balcony gripped Will’s forearms and forced him inside. Hannibal was desperately trying to regain his footing, his feet slipping on the carpet and his hands instinctively grappling at the thing around his neck. His shock was short lived, however, and Will saw the exact moment that Hannibal’s thought processes clicked back into place. Planting his feet firmly on the ground and bending at the knees a little to compensate for the odd angle, Hannibal removed his hands from the rope around his neck. Reaching behind his head with one hand, he griped onto his captor’s neck while his other arm jerked inwards to catch the man firmly in the side with an elbow. The man grunted, momentarily stunned and loosening his grip on Hannibal just enough to allow him to bend his knees further and yank his assailant forward. Wrapping his entire arm around the man’s neck, Hannibal used his leverage to flip the man’s body over his back, smashing him down roughly onto the coffee table in front of him. 

Knowing the man behind him would be distracted by the unexpected fall of his chief, Will took advantage of his captor’s lapse in concentration and twisted free of his grasp. With one swift movement, he turned to face the man who had been holding him, punching him squarely in the face and sending him sprawling back out the door and onto the balcony. The man lost his grip on his gun immediately, and Will saw it skitter across the balcony and slide to rest beneath a lounge chair. Will chased his attacker, stepping over his prone form while he scrabbled to free his machete from inside his coat. Rendering him unconscious with an abrupt kick to the head, Will reached into the man’s coat and retrieved the machete before heading back inside to help Hannibal. 

In the living room, Hannibal was not having a massive degree of difficulty with his erstwhile assailant, having deposited him neatly onto the now broken coffee table before absently picking up his head and bashing his skull into the floor. He was, however, extremely annoyed at the man - partly for daring to attack him and partly for daring to attack Will, but mostly for being rude enough to interrupt his evening. Standing over the man’s semi-conscious form, Hannibal contemplated stabbing him through the eye with the pencil he had in his pocket. He reached down and removed the man’s gun from its holster, tilting it to ensure the safety was not engaged before slipping it into his jacket. Looking up, he saw Will in the doorway, his eyes a little hazy, clutching a machete in his hand and shaking slightly. 

“I’m so sorry, Hannibal,” he repeated.

Hannibal temporarily abandoned his plan for the pencil, and rendered the man below him unconscious with a dress shoe to the chin. He looked past Will to the completely still body sprawled out behind him, and relaxed slightly. 

“What happened, Will?”, he asked, calmly removing his pocket square before unfurling it flamboyantly and using it to wipe the sweat from his face. 

Will merely shook his head, his shaking becoming a little more violent as an excess of adrenaline coursed around his body. 

Hannibal stepped neatly over the man laying at his feet and reached for Will’s hand, prying the machete from his grasp. He looked at the weapon with amusement and distaste, its crude nature failing to appeal to him at all. 

Still trembling, Will could feel the sweat cooling on his skin, and it made him feel instantly cold. Hannibal’s palm closed reassuringly around the side of his his neck, and Will felt relief hit him in a hot flash. 

“It will be alright, Will. You are in shock. Sit down.” 

Guiding Will gently to the couch, Hannibal sat down beside him, locking his fingers firmly around Will’s wrist as he did so. 

Will sat staring at the carnage in their room with blank eyes, feeling Hannibal’s fingers taking his pulse. He turned to Hannibal and reached for him wordlessly, his fingers gently brushing at the livid red mark around Hannibal’s neck. Reaching up and taking Will’s hand in his own, Hannibal sought to reassure him. 

“I’m not hurt, Will,” he said quietly.

Will nodded and let go of his hand, his eyes straying back to the mess in their room.

“I think,” Will said eventually, “they thought you owed them money.”

“Did they?” Hannibal returned, sounding faintly surprised. “I can assure you I do not.”

“No. I didn’t think so either.”

There was a knock at the door.


	9. The Concierge

Will jumped at the sound of the knock, still very much on edge and aware that they currently had a room littered with unconscious arms dealers and broken furniture. 

Hannibal stood, standing directly in front of Will and gripping the machete in his hand a little more tightly. 

A familiar voice came through the door.

“Sir? Are you ok? I thought you might need a bit of help.”

“The front desk clerk,” Hannibal registered, wondering how he was going to get rid of the man without killing him. 

“Um, sir,”, the voice came again, “I don’t want to really say too much out in the hallway, but I think you might need to let me in. I, ah, think you could maybe use some help? Doctor?”

Hannibal froze. He had not registered here as a doctor, the alias he had used being untitled in order to attract less attention. He thought the man may simply be asking if he required a doctor, but the hint of nervousness in the clerk’s tone made him think otherwise. 

From his seat on the couch, Will was truly beginning to think this day was rating up there with the worst in his life, and he looked up at Hannibal with something like a pleading expression on his face.

“Hannibal? Don’t.”

Hannibal looked at him for a moment before striding to the door and flinging it open. He grabbed the clerk in one precise movement, tugging him into the room and catapulting him into a chair. The clerk stayed there obediently, his gaze darting nervously from the two unconscious men to Hannibal gripping the machete. Hannibal shut the door quietly and stood over the clerk, fixing him with an expression which might have made Caligula’s dream of stopping the tides come true, had it been directed at the sea. The clerk shifted uncomfortably. 

“Uh, hi,” he said, flashing a terrified smile.

Hannibal said nothing.

“Listen,” the man continued, “I can help. I’m a big fan. I’ve known who you were ever since you arrived. Your face is pretty memorable…it’s a…it’s a great face. I mean, look at it.” he finished lamely, pressing his sweaty palms together and gesturing towards Hannibal’s face. 

Will buried his head in his hands and wondered if hyperventilating would help the situation. 

“Now I know what you’re both thinking, but I’m not a bad person really, just a big fan. I mean, some of the stuff you did was so pretty, beautiful really, and I would just really like to help you guys out here. I know what went wrong, and I can really help. I’d love to help.”

“And how,” Hannibal said, his voice dangerously low, “would you be able to help?”

The clerk’s expression brightened.

“Oh, I know the hotel. I can get these guys out of here no problem. And I know why they’re here too.”

“Oh?” Hannibal said, tilting his head inquiringly. 

“Yeah, they, well they thought you were this other guy I think. This guy who is here to play poker.”

Will’s head snapped up suddenly, realisation rushing up at him like a flood. 

“Hannibal - the man in the black suit with all the security. I knew there was something about him which bothered me.”

The clerk nodded enthusiastically. 

“That’s the guy. Looks just like you, sir. Very weird,” the clerk paused for a moment, considering. “Bit more pasty than you. And he’s not as friendly. But he does look a lot like you.”

Hannibal shot his eyes to the heavens and implored any powers that may be up there to give him patience. 

“So there his a man at this hotel who bears a resemblance to me, and these men came here looking for him because he owes them money.”

“Exactly, sir. Exactly.”

“Alright. I am still failing to see any reason why I should allow you to live.”

The clerk opened his hands apologetically. 

“Well, sir, I wouldn’t have come up here if I wasn’t going to help you. I just wanted to meet you properly, but I’d have been ok with just shaking your hand before you left really. I don’t want to sell you out or anything - I mean I’d have done that by now if I was going to. I only came up here because I figured you could use someone who knew the hotel and was happy to help you get these guys out of your room. Figured something was up when you left so quickly earlier.”

Standing up briskly and shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Will left the room for a moment, stepping over the still unconscious form of his attacker and retrieving the gun which had slid underneath the lawn chair. Will checked the gun, sliding the safety back into position and tucking the weapon into the back of his waistband. He took a deep breath, inhaling the warm scent of the heavy summer air, and allowing himself a moment to regain his composure. When he returned to the room, he was greeted by two pairs of eyes looking at him steadily - the clerk’s filled with nervous excitement and Hannibal’s concealing thinly veiled frustration. 

“Hannibal, we need this man to help us.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, but Will stopped him with a single glance. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, crossing the room and angling his body to place himself between the clerk and Hannibal’s machete. 

The clerk looked down at his chest in confusion.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my name badge seems to have fallen off.”

Hannibal ducked his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing. Will observed the uncharacteristic gesture with some amusement.

“Will, we need to move. If this man can help us, we need to find out how.”

The clerk perked up.

“Oh, well, sir - I have this great idea. I can go back downstairs and get a room service trolley. They are nice and large and they have a table cloth which covers up this little hidden tray underneath. I thought we could put the guys in a couple of those, and then I can just wheel them out and get rid of them.”

“It will have to be a pretty sturdy trolly. These men aren’t small,” Will said, thinking there were a number of good reasons why this plan was terrible, but unsure which one to mention first. 

“Well, they are pretty great, sir. Not cheap metal or anything. I’m sure it would be fine.”

Hannibal closed his fingers around Will’s wrist again, and leaned in to speak into his ear.

“Will, we cannot let these men live.”

Will looked at him sideways, knowing that Hannibal had a point but being unwilling to concede it.

“We are not killing them,” he said, with something like firmness in his tone.

“This is not a questions of morals. These men are not good men.”

Will shook off his hand and looked back at the clerk.

“What would you do if we gave them to you alive?” he asked.

The clerk considered this possibility for a moment.

“Well, I’m going to be honest - I hadn’t really thought of that. But if you want, I can just put them back in their room? They are staying here. Or, I can just throw them in my car and drive them out somewhere, but I’d rather not do that if I can help it.”

“No,” Will replied, “we would not ask you to.”

Hannibal made a noise of frustration. 

“This is not a good idea, Will. These men are not worthy of life, and they may present problems for us in the future.”

“What problems, Hannibal? They are looking for their money. You don’t have it. The man who does is here. I cannot sanction killing these people while they are unconscious. Who they are doesn’t matter.”

“They attacked us,” Hannibal said gently.

“I don’t care. We did not kill them during the fight. We are not killing them now. It’s too far,” Will replied, his voice cracking slightly. 

Hannibal looked at Will’s face and saw the hurt and confusion written there. He knew that Will would have killed both of these men if it had been necessary to do so during the course of their altercation, but he could sense Will’s frank horror at the prospect of murdering them without reason. Will had always killed to protect, rarely choosing to apply violence to any problem which could be otherwise solved. His one slight departure from this mantra had been his attempt to kill him using Matthew Brown as his weapon, but Hannibal knew that Will’s actions then had been born out of sheer desperation. He had been rather proud of Will’s attempt on his life, but in the intervening years, Hannibal had come to feel something like regret for the selfishness which had seen him push Will into choosing a course of action which was so foreign to him. Without knowing if it was love or a desire for penance which drove his actions, Hannibal knew now that he would do whatever Will asked of him. 

“Alright, Will. We will do this your way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lovely comment asking me to continue with this fic, and I realised I hadn't posted in ages! 
> 
> *hangs head in shame* 
> 
> By way of an apology and for isyasyamk who sent such a lovely comment, I have posted two chapters tonight. If I get bad at posting again, feel free to metaphorically poke me in the face via messages and I will jolt awake and post again!
> 
> (also, bonus points for anyone who can guess who the concierge is...)


	10. Fear

Will had insisted on leaving Hannibal in the room while he helped the (positively thrilled) desk clerk dispose of the their two attackers. Not wishing for any further mix ups and unsure of how many more of these men may be in the hotel, Hannibal had reluctantly agreed to be left behind. He had, however, ensured Will was armed, surreptitiously feeling for the gun tucked in his waistband before allowing him to leave. 

Hannibal paced the room while Will was gone, his eyes flitting anxiously to the door. He felt every second of Will’s absence, and the worry he felt approached something which resembled fear. He had been afraid before, of course, but the emotion had affected him so little during his adult life that he still had a clear memory of each event which had caused it. As he paced their empty suite, still littered with the debris of their recent fight, Hannibal realised that the cause or object of his recent fears had almost always been Will. 

Thinking back on it now, Hannibal knew he had felt afraid when he had been attacked by Tobias Budge. But his fear then had been brief and underwhelming, with the adrenaline shooting through his veins quickly converting his fear into controlled rage. In the aftermath of the fight he had won, he recalled sitting on the chair in his office back in Baltimore, telling lies to Jack Crawford in a calm voice. Deliberately letting the blood from his split lip run down his chin, Hannibal had watched while the crime scene investigators buzzed around Tobias’ corpse like flies. He remembered the exact moment Will had walked through his office door that day, and he understood finally that the unease he had felt during his conversation with Jack had not been caused by a fear of being caught. Pushing Will in Tobias’ direction had been a calculated move, of course, but Hannibal could not deny that he had been secretly relieved to see Will alive and unhurt. 

Hannibal’s mind flashed from this memory of Will walking into his old office to the memory of Will’s face at Mason Verger’s dinner table, his lips streaked red with blood as he spat Cordell’s cheek fat onto his plate. While it was true that Hannibal had been incredibly aware of the danger inherent in his position at Muskrat Farm, he had not felt afraid for his own body. No stranger to pain or the threat of death, he would have accepted his fate with good grace if it had been his time, but he remembered the moment he had been separated from Will with painful clarity. Leaving Will alone in that horrible place, Hannibal had felt completely helpless and afraid - a pair of emotions he had not experienced with such force since he had watched a group of desperate men drag his sister out into the snow to be slaughtered for food. Hannibal’s mind unwillingly flew to the last glimpse he ever had of his sister before he lost sight of her forever: stumbling barefoot to her death, her long hair clinging to her tear damp cheeks, she had desperately looked back over her shoulder to seek out the comfort of her brother’s face. Hannibal had been too small to save his sister then, his brittle bones and starvation ravaged body standing no chance against the men who had come to eat Mischa, and Hannibal flinched as his own utter helplessness in that moment returned to haunt him. Shutting his eyes, Hannibal stood perfectly still in the middle of the wrecked hotel room and desperately tried to find his way back from these twisted and rarely visited halls inside his memory palace. He attempted to navigate into safer territory, but instead his mind showed him the night he had carried Will away from the horror of Mason’s farm. He saw the scene from a distance, as an observer would have seen it, and he saw himself clutching Will in his arms as Chiyoh’s rifle cracked the air around him. He saw the determination set in his own face as he stumbled blindly towards freedom and away from the bodies of the men he had slaughtered to save Will. He also saw something which had not been there that night - his own sister watching him carry Will to safety, her ghostly white face smiling at him even as the blood dripped from her slit throat and on to the crisp, unblemished snow.


	11. Room Service

Will had helped the desk clerk get their unconscious attackers down to their own room without much enthusiasm for the plan he was currently following. He had tacitly agreed to follow the clerk’s half formulated and frankly abysmal plan only because he could not think of another way to remove the men from the suite without allowing Hannibal to kill them first. Leaving them in the suite and removing themselves rapidly from the hotel would certainly have been an option, but Will was concerned that doing so would result in closer attention being paid to the two guests who had wrecked their room and littered it with unconscious criminals, and this was an outcome Hannibal could ill afford. It would have been impossible to effectively remove the evidence of their fight from the room without first removing the men, and since Will was not willing to kill them, moving them back into their own room seemed to be the only viable option. Still, as Will followed the puffing hotel clerk down the corridor with a room service trolley stuffed full of a rather large arms dealer, he could not help but wish he had been able to devote a bit more time to coming up with a better idea for disposing of their attackers. 

They had made it down two floors and through two blessedly deserted corridors without difficulty, however, and Will silently thanked the poker game for distracting most of the hotel’s occupants for the evening. Will and the (apparently very out-of-shape) desk clerk had heaved the still unconscious men out of the trolleys before tossing them unceremoniously onto the bed. Will had then instructed the clerk to get rid of both of the empty trolleys while he stayed in the room in order to ensure the men did not regain consciousness too quickly. Now, as he stood leaning against the wall staring at the two men, Will’s mind worked to formulate a plan for the rest of the evening. Wanting to get away from this place as quickly as possible, Will was aware that he would need to ensure all of the mess was removed from their suite before he was able to leave the hotel, and he resigned himself to the idea of asking the desk clerk for some more help upon his return. He was concerned that the men may regain consciousness far to soon and come looking for them again, but he could not imagine that the hotel clerk had access to drugs which could knock these men out, and he was loath to injure them further in an attempt to keep them under. His mind hit upon an idea at the exact moment the clerk returned to the room, panting slightly and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. 

“All done, sir. I don’t think anyone thought anything of it. Most of the staff are busy with the game anyway.”

“Good,” Will replied, walking over to the room’s desk and picking up some stationary. “Listen, do you know the room number of the man these men actually came to see?”

“Yes, sir, I do. What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we tell them where they need to go,” Will said, handing the paper and a pen to the clerk. 

The clerk grinned. 

“Bit mean, don’t you think?” he asked.

Will looked at him.

“Ok, ok, no - I get it,” the clerk said.

“Make sure you have the right room,” Will answered, striding briskly to the bathroom to retrieve a pin from the complementary sewing kit left in all the hotel’s rooms. 

They left the room a short time later, leaving the clerk’s note safety pinned rather theatrically to one of the men’s suit jackets. It read, in neatly rendered block capital letters:

“THE MAN WHO HAS YOUR MONEY IS IN ROOM 405.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated with much love to blesser who wrote the utterly amazing [White Knight Position](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7011091) for my birthday. Best. Present. Ever. Give it a read! xxx


	12. Blood Which Cannot Be Washed Away

Back in the room, Hannibal had sat down on the edge of the sofa and screwed his eyes shut. His nails digging in to the palm of his hand, Hannibal clenched his fist and concentrated on his breathing. This was neither the time nor the place to explore these long buried emotions, and he knew Will would be returning to the room shortly. At length, he opened his eyes and stood up, feeling absently for the gun still tucked into his pocket. No one was going to make him feel helpless again, and Will would never be left alone in another horrible place - “Not now, not as long as I draw breath,” he thought. 

He heard movement in the hall and braced himself, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he saw Will poke his head around the door. 

“Hannibal? Everything ok?” Will asked, stepping into the room sideways and clicking the door shut behind him. 

Hannibal smiled at him. 

“No further visitors as of yet.”

“I sent the clerk to get some trash bags and a vacuum cleaner.”

“Do you think trusting him is wise?”

Will shrugged.

“Not a lot else we can do. I don’t read him as anything other than he seems to be.”

Hannibal made a slightly discontented humming noise but said nothing. Instead, he crossed the room and once again placed the palm of his hand against Will’s cheek. 

“I can finish things with the desk agent, Will. Go rest for a while.”

Will looked up at him doubtfully. 

“If I leave you, are you going to do something foolish?”

Hannibal closed his eyes.

“As much as it pains me to say it, I can assure you everyone will remain safe. As you asked.”

Shooting him a slightly tired smile, Will began to make his way across the room.

“Hannibal we need to leave. Quickly,” he said as he stepped over a lamp which had been knocked over in the fight. 

“I am well aware of that. I will make arrangements. Given the size of the airport here and the attention it would draw, it would be unwise to charter a private plane. I will find a commercial flight which departs as quickly as possible.”

Will nodded his assent without turning around, and he disappeared into his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Hannibal took out his phone and used it to locate the number for an airline which may be able to provide him with some last minute tickets to France. Before he could dial, the desk clerk came back, tugging an entire housekeeping trolley behind him, and Hannibal instructed him to clean up the mess in the room. 

“Quietly,” he clarified, as the clerk opened his mouth to speak. 

The clerk made a zipping motion across his mouth with his fingers and went to work on the remains of the coffee table. 

Stepping out of the room, Hannibal stood on the balcony while he talked to the airline, inhaling the rich scents of the city and letting the light summer air clear his head. He booked two tickets on the first flight to France which was not full, discovering with annoyance that they would not be able to leave the country until the following night. He momentarily considered attempting to get to France via car or train, but decided the ease of the flight would put less stress on Will’s straining nerves. After all, they could simply move to a different room and remain out of sight for the remainder of their stay here, and Hannibal knew a night’s rest would do them both good.

Taking one final deep breath, Hannibal reluctantly abandoned the peace of the balcony and slipped back into the room. The clerk had done a magnificent job of clearing the chaos. Apart from the rather obvious absence of a coffee table, it would have been impossible to tell that there had been a violent altercation in the room just an hour or so earlier, and even Hannibal had to admit that the clerk’s help had been of some value. The clerk himself was standing by the housekeeping cart, trying to force two of the broken coffee table legs into the space reserved for mops. Hannibal observed him for a moment before addressing him.

“We will need a different room. Only for one day. Can this be arranged?”

The clerk gave up on the coffee table legs and balanced them precariously on top of the cart. 

“Yes, sir. That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve got another room downstairs you can have.”

“Thank you. I will of course pay to have the coffee table replaced.” 

“No problem. I can get another one before you leave, no one will notice it. Shall I keep this room in your name for the next two weeks?”

“No. We will leave tomorrow and we will check out of the hotel. It will be best to ensure both myself and Will are seen to enter and leave normally.” 

“Sure. Makes sense. Look, I’ll just get rid of this table and then I’ll be back with a room key for you. Should be nice and easy for you to switch over.”

Hannibal nodded, and the clerk backed out of the room with the trolley, trying to steer one handed while keeping the coffee table legs balanced on top of the cart. 

Once he was alone, Hannibal’s thoughts flew immediately to Will. Knowing that he might be sleeping or perhaps just wishing to be alone, Hannibal paused for a moment before deciding to check on him. He knocked softly at Will’s closed bedroom door before easing it open it gently when he received no reply. Peering around the edge of the door, he took in the dark room with its empty bed and felt a momentary sense of unease when he was unable to see Will. As he opened the door fully, Hannibal noticed the light coming from the open bathroom door, and he presumed from the sound of running water that Will was in the shower. It was his own paranoid need to lay his eyes on Will which lead Hannibal to glance into the bathroom. He saw Will, still fully clothed, sitting on the floor underneath the shower’s spray and staring at nothing with blank eyes. 

Hannibal took the phone and the gun from his pockets and laid them on the vanity surrounding the sink. He crossed the room and sat down on the shower floor beside Will. Hannibal felt the lukewarm water instantly soak through his clothes and run onto his skin. He said nothing. 

Will remained where he was for a few moments, feeling Hannibal’s arm brush his as he slid down next to him under the water. He did not understand the impulse which had lead him to walk into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and sit under the spray without undressing, but the warm water and the weight of his soaking wet clothes had made him feel temporarily safe, and Will had no desire to move. He felt Hannibal’s presence beside him, and it made him feel at once reassured and conflicted. 

Will had taken a long time to heal after the fight with the Dragon, and his wounds had been mental as well as physical. He had allowed Hannibal to care for him, and he had cared for Hannibal in return, but he was completely at a loss regarding where their relationship was heading, unsure if their footing now was any safer than it had been when they had stood precariously balanced on the edge of a cliff over the Atlantic. Making something that resembled a life with Hannibal in France had been an action which was defined by his complete indecision - he had been happy with Hannibal in the bizarre semblance of a home they had made, but his happiness lasted only as long as his ability to stop himself from thinking about the consequences of his actions. Will did not know what to want or what to ask for, but the thoughts he was able to bury so effectively while hiding with Hannibal in France had been unearthed by their trip to Montenegro. Here, Will had been always aware that he was sharing a space with a wanted man, and as a simple extension of that thought, he was consequently always aware of the reason why that man was wanted. Will knew what Hannibal was, and he had accepted it a long time ago. What Will could not accept or understand was his own place in Hannibal’s world. During their time at the hotel, Will’s mind had been constantly flitting between the paranoid thought that someone would see Hannibal and take him away and the idea that if this were to happen it would be the best outcome for the world at large. Seeing Hannibal’s face when he had been pulled away from him earlier, Will had known that he could not fathom the idea of a world without Hannibal in it, nor could he abide the thought of someone taking Hannibal away from him. Conversely, knowing that Hannibal would have killed their two attackers and the well-intentioned desk clerk without pause was a thought which haunted Will, and the stress of his conflict with himself was threatening to tear him apart. 

Hannibal sat next to Will under the water and watched as his carefully blank face began to tighten into the expression of a person obviously attempting to keep themselves from crying. Hannibal reached out and laid his hand on Will’s arm. 

“Will?”

At the sound of Hannibal’s voice, Will broke, burying his face in Hannibal’s shoulder and letting the tears fall hot against his cheeks. He made no noise as he cried, and his tears mixed with the water running down his face. 

Hannibal placed his hand gently over Will’s shaking fingers and let him cry. As Will’s tears eased slightly, he lifted his head to meet Hannibal’s gaze.

“There is blood on my hands,” he said.

Hannibal, believing Will to be upset about their recent altercation, sought to reassure him.

“Will, we did not kill those men, but they -“

Will shook his head, and his voice was raised barely above a whisper as he interrupted. 

“No. But we have killed. We would have killed. I have killed.”

The reason for Will’s tears crashed down into Hannibal’s mind, and his heart broke with the knowledge. 

From the start of their relationship, Hannibal had sought to push Will, believing the man to be his equal, and seeking to break down the barriers of morality and false decency which he believed were preventing Will from fully experiencing the beautiful savagery of which he was capable. Hannibal had been almost single minded in his pursuit, and it had blinded him. He realised Will was a creature who could never enjoy truly enjoy killing - the act would always haunt him, and the ghosts of those whose lives he had taken would pursue him in his dreams. Will was not capable of choosing the life Hannibal had desired for them, and to force that life on him would be to destroy his already crumbling mind. Hannibal looked down into Will’s hunted eyes and knew what pursued him. 

“There is blood on my hands,” Will repeated. “It won’t come off.”

Hannibal raised Will’s trembling hand to his lips. Carefully, he took Will’s fingers into his mouth and sucked each one of them clean. 

Will watched him, feeling Hannibal’s tongue move against the tips of his fingers. 

Hannibal placed the pad of Will’s thumb against his lips and kissed it gently. 

“Will, there is no blood on your hands. The blood is mine. The blame is mine. Let me take it.” 

The warm water cascaded over Hannibal’s face and he blinked it out of his eyes. 

Will watched as water ran down Hannibal’s cheeks and dripped along the curve of his neck. Leaning forward, he licked the water from Hannibal’s lips. 

Hannibal’s mouth opened and Will kissed him. 

They stayed like that for a long while, Hannibal still grasping Will’s hand and shutting his eyes to the flow of water which blinded him. Tilting his head only slightly in order to fit their mouths together, Hannibal remained totally still as Will pressed softly into his lips. 

Eventually, Will broke away and rested his forehead against Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Hannibal, I can’t do this alone. But I can’t do this with you either.”

Hannibal swallowed, and Will watched the water slide down his throat. 

“I cannot tell you what to do, Will. You must decide. You know what I am. You know me better than anyone ever will.”

Will ran his hand along the length of Hannibal’s wet arm and felt the heat of his skin underneath the damp clothes. 

“I wanted you,” he said at last, “I wanted all that you were. The night we killed the Dragon, I wanted you.”

“And what did you do with that knowledge?” 

“It made me understand that I could not live without you in this world, and that this world could not live with you in it.”

Hannibal smiled.

“So you chose to kill us both.”

“Yes.”

“How did you feel when you knew we had both survived?”

Will contemplated that question for a moment, letting his fingers brush along the back of Hannibal’s hand, tracing the veins there.

“I don’t know how I felt. I don’t know how I feel now.”

They were both silent for a while, the only sound in the room coming from the water as it rushed around them and dripped down their bodies. Hannibal broke the silence first. 

“I have done you a disservice, Will, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Will tiled his head and looked up at Hannibal. 

“Did you just apologise to me?” he asked incredulously. 

“You forgave me many years ago. Perhaps it is time I asked for that forgiveness.”

“I still give you my forgiveness, Hannibal, but it won’t solve anything. Forgiving you for being who you are doesn’t change who you are.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to reply but instead closed his eyes and thumped his head back into the marble tiles behind him. He felt Will’s fingers close around his jaw and he was being kissed again, more desperately this time, with Will’s tongue sliding into his mouth to taste. 

Will stopped, breathless, and pulled himself back, watching Hannibal’s face. Hannibal forced himself to speak, his eyes remaining shut, unwilling to open them and mark the end of this moment. 

“Will, we need to go. We have to switch rooms. I was unable to get a flight until tomorrow evening, and it would be unwise to stay in this room any longer.”

Reaching up and switching off the shower, Will stood up briskly, his clothes soaked and his hair sticking to his face. Hannibal opened his eyes and looked up at him, thinking briefly of the hair clinging to his sister’s face before shaking himself and standing up also. He stood in front of Will, feeling the water pooling in his shoes, and speaking earnestly. 

“No matter what you choose to do or who you decide to be, I will be content.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extra long chapter to say thank you for all of the kudos and comments - I hope it makes up for the long gaps in between my posts. 
> 
> I have also been trying to muddle my way through setting up a tumblr for the past couple of weeks. I create quite a lot of artwork for various things (mostly Hannibal, obviously!), so I figured I might try and share it with all of you guys. [Go have a look](http://darkandtwistedthing.tumblr.com) if you feel like it. It's still just a baby tumblr right now, but I'm getting the hang of it! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read this fic. I have said it before, but you are all awesome. <3 xxx


	13. Choice

The desk clerk returned presently, choosing tact for once and not remarking on Hannibal and Will’s damp hair. Thankfully, they had been able to change into dry clothes before his return, and Hannibal had thrown their wet things into a plastic bag, sparing a pained thought for his crumpled suit before tying the bag shut and tossing it next to the door. The clerk had shown them to their alternate room, quickly taking them down the back stairs and pressing a key card into Will’s hand. Will had thanked him sincerely for his help, and the clerk had looked distinctly starry eyed as Hannibal had shaken his hand and thanked him also. Promising to return tomorrow evening in order to arrange for transportation to the airport, the clerk had left them for the night and returned to his duties at the desk, his wide grin going un-noticed by his colleagues.

Alone in their new suite, Hannibal asked Will where he would like to sleep. The suite had two rooms, and the layout was similar to their suite upstairs, with a large living room separating two double bedrooms. Will had said nothing, but he had taken Hannibal’s hand and led him into one of the two rooms, sitting down with him on the edge of the bed while he removed his shoes and socks. Hannibal had run his hand through Will’s hair before taking his suitcase into the bathroom and leaving Will alone to undress. 

They had gotten into bed wordlessly, and Will had reached out for Hannibal almost immediately. Hannibal held him, letting his fingers run across Will’s back, but never straying below the hem of his shirt. Resting his head on Hannibal’s chest, Will was grateful for the silent darkness of the room and all it could conceal. His mind was still racing, and he wished desperately for the sleep which would not come. His eyes open and straining in the dark, Will thought of Bedelia and the words she had spoken regarding Hannibal’s love for him. He did not need to ask. Will knew Hannibal loved him, and he knew he loved Hannibal in return. The fact that this love between them existed did nothing to help the situation, and Will thought of it only for a moment.

“Hannibal we are at an impasse.”

“How so?”

“I cannot be what you want.”

“Will, you have always tried to change yourself into what you believe I want you to be. I have encouraged this transformation, both because I believed you to want it and because I wanted it for myself. I cannot ask you to change yourself for me again. Think of what you want instead. What is it that you want?”

Closing his eyes to the dark, Will thought for a while before he answered.

“I want you. All of you. But I do not think I can have that without first changing myself. You would have killed those men earlier. Without a thought.”

“And yet, I chose not to. Because you asked it of me.”

“Are you telling me you would stop if I asked you to?”

“I cannot answer that, Will. If you asked me to stop, I believe I could. But I would be unable to promise it.”

“Why would you try? For me? Or for yourself?”

“Perhaps both. I have never been given a reason to stop previously. I have a reason now. You have seen the worst in me and you have forgiven it. That is not worth nothing, Will. Compromising myself in order to please another has never presented a problem for me because I have not felt the desire to do so before.”

“You feel that desire now?”

“Will, when I first came here, I thought it would be beneficial to us both to be back in the world again. I had not anticipated longing to return to the home that we have made, and yet that longing was what I felt even on our first night here.”

“You wanted to go back to a cabin in the middle of nowhere?” Will asked, a little dubious. 

“I have never been more truly myself than when I am with you. It is intoxicating, this knowledge that you are known by another and that you would like to know them in return. I have never been able to be myself, Will, because what I am is not acceptable to most. When I came here, I was forced again to resume being something that I was not.”

“You could be yourself when you were caught.”

“Yes, I thought that would be the case also. But that version of myself was just as masked as the version of myself I presented to you when we first met. I merely changed the mask I presented to suit the situation.” 

“Is killing part of who you are?”

Hannibal fell silent for a while, his fingers continuing to run softly down the length of Will’s spine.

“It has been,” he admitted finally. “I believe it always will be, to some degree. But you are worth more to me than any corpse, and I would not trade you for the ability to kill without consequence.” 

He fell silent again, before screwing his courage to the sticking point and continuing.

“I lost someone once, Will. A long time ago. With her death, part of me was lost also. I could not save her, and I took my rage at this fact and poured it into the body of everything I killed. Every person who fell under my knife became a substitute for the men I was unable to kill in order to save her. I murdered the corrupt and the ill mannered, and I killed them without pity. I killed them because it did not matter. Their lives and my own meant nothing to me, and with every death I isolated myself further from the world.”

“Your sister?”

Hannibal tightened his grip on Will, and let some emotion creep into his voice.

“Yes. I had loved no one with the depth of feeling I had for her. She was taken from me, and I closed myself off, vowing to let myself feel nothing which would allow me to experience the loss I felt at her death again. When I saw your face in my kitchen on the night Abigail died, I knew I had let myself feel again what I had promised I would not. My anger at myself for this fact drove my actions that night as much as your betrayal.”

“Hannibal, I -”

“Will, I can only blame myself for what I allowed myself to be and for the choice I forced you to make.”

Will shifted and propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Hannibal and straining to see the shape of his face in the darkness.

“Hannibal, I forgive you. For everything. I cannot ask you to stop. That’s your choice to make, not mine. I won’t hold you hostage. I am choosing this now, and I will have to make my peace with what that means.”

Hannibal reached up and felt for Will’s cheek. 

“And what is it that you are choosing?” Hannibal asked. 

In reply, Will bent down and kissed him again, letting his lips brush softly against Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal shut his eyes and knew he would remember this moment until the day he died. 

“Will, I cannot make a promise to you which I do not know if I can keep. But I will vow to be honest with you, and I will never again do anything which may put you in danger.”

Letting his head fall to rest on Hannibal’s chest once more, Will felt his mind clear now that he had finally made his choice. He was sure there would be consequences for his actions, but he could not regret what he had decided. He thought of Hannibal and his sister, remembering what he knew of their story, and wondering if he might have become like Hannibal if he had been placed in a similar situation. He felt for Hannibal’s hand and gripped it gently.

“Hannibal, we are all monsters at heart.”

Laying in this dark room and feeling the warmth of Will’s form next to him, Hannibal felt a moment of complete and perfect happiness. 

“Perhaps we are, Will. Our monsters have learned to walk through the world alone, but perhaps some of their stars are the same.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is coming very soon - just one more chapter and an epilogue to go! Thanks to everyone who has read and left kudos, it means the world to me. 
> 
> Come see me on [tumblr](http://darkandtwistedthing.tumblr.com) if you want - I also make fan art. :)
> 
> xxx


	14. A Day Off

Hannibal once again awoke early, looking over to see Will still sleeping soundly next to him. He was loath to tear himself away from Will so soon, but he realised he had not taken a drink since his stop at the hotel’s bar the previous evening, and he was reluctantly driven from the bed by thirst. Hannibal wandered to the living room and took a bottle of water out onto the balcony, watching as the sun split the horizon and promised the world another glorious day. Glancing down at the parking lot sprawled out below the balcony, Hannibal felt a creeping sense of panic as he spied several uniformed police officers milling about among the cars. He pulled a deck chair up to the railing, dropping down to sit in it and effectively concealing himself behind the balcony’s railings while still enabling him to spy on the scene below. His temporary panic eased slightly as he saw two more police officers emerge from the hotel, escorting an unfamiliar man to what was (presumably) his car. Watching the scene with some interest, Hannibal peered through the balcony railings as the police gestured towards the car, clearly asking the man to unlock it and permit a search. Even from some distance away, Hannibal heard the moment the sound of a cell phone ringing had emerged from the car’s closed trunk, and he watched as the man’s trunk was opened to reveal the two bodies concealed inside. Squinting with the effort, Hannibal strained his eyes and stared at the bodies, almost certain the two men in the trunk of the car were their two attackers from the previous evening, and doubting many African men with violent orange shirts could be lurking in the grounds of the hotel. 

The man with the bodies in his trunk was arrested immediately, and Hannibal watched as the police took the man away and began to secure the crime scene which was his car. Leaning back into his chair, Hannibal wondered if the desk clerk had become a little trigger happy once Will had left the two arms dealers in his care, but he decided that this was unlikely given the man’s nature. He had not asked Will what he had done with the two men, and it occurred to him that Will may have been responsible for their deaths. However, Hannibal dismissed this notion without a second thought, not believing for a moment that Will would have killed the men himself after taking so much care to prevent their deaths previously. No, someone else had killed these two men, and Hannibal had no real desire to find out who - the men were violent arms dealers, and Hannibal assumed that they had finally reaped the rewards of their chosen profession. Their removal from the world was useful, and there was one less worry on Hannibal’s mind as he slipped back into the bedroom to re-join Will.  

The day had passed uneventfully. Will had slept late into the afternoon, and Hannibal had lain beside him, listening as the sound of his heavy, even breathing filled the room. Hannibal had told Will of their attacker’s demise upon his waking, and Will had told him of the note he had left pined to one of the men’s suits. 

“I suppose whoever actually had their money must have taken them out,” Will had said, running a hand through the mess of his sleep tousled hair.

They had both showered, dressed, and Will had cautiously mounted an expedition to the front desk in order to locate the clerk and arrange for some lunch to be brought to their new room. The clerk had provided them with a moveable feast, bringing them two room service trolleys laden with cheese, fresh bread, wine, cold meats, chocolate, and chilled rice pudding. 

“No hot food, I’m afraid,” he had explained apologetically. “I can’t cook for beans and I didn’t want to ask the chef to make anything.”

Hannibal and Will had assured him that they were most satisfied with their cold meal, and they had eaten their food sitting in the living room next to the open balcony doors (Will’s lingering sense of paranoia preventing them from eating outside). They had discussed their return home, and Hannibal had broached the idea of building an extension onto the small cabin they currently shared. Will could find no reason to object to the plan, and the afternoon passed quickly as they had sat side by side on the sofa, drinking the remains of the wine and searching for architects on Hannibal’s phone.

As the time for their departure from the hotel neared, Will had once again ventured from the room to pre-emptively search for the desk clerk and arrange for a taxi to take them to the airport. It was early evening now, and Will descended the main hotel steps among a colourful array of beautifully adorned ladies and immaculately turned out gentleman. 

“ _Poker game must be carrying on,”_ he thought, taking in the hotel’s heaving lobby. 

The desk clerk had stepped around the edge of the front desk and slid over to meet Will in an unobtrusive corner of the room, pushing a set of car keys into his hands and explaining that he thought a drive to the airport might be easier than undergoing the scrutiny of a taxi driver’s glare. Will thought the clerk was perhaps being overly cautious at this point, but he had been secretly relieved to hear that he would not have to attempt small talk with a taxi driver. The car, the clerk had assured him, was a legitimately acquired rental, and it could simply be left at the airport once they had arrived. Will had thanked the little man again, sincerely grateful for all of his help, and the clerk’s pudgy face had once again lit up with a grin as he wished Will the best of luck and returned to his post at the front desk. 

Will made his way back towards the hotel’s staircase, not relishing the idea of being confined in the small space of the elevator. As he approached the steps, he saw his American friend from the bar, his casual clothes replaced with a well tailored tuxedo. He was standing near the top of the steps with his hand on another man’s arm, whispering something into his ear with a somewhat worried expression on his face. Will watched as the American squeezed the other man’s arm and said once final word to him before releasing him and walking down the steps towards Will. He spotted Will immediately, and he raised his hand in a cheerful greeting. 

“My friend!” he called out, trotting down the last remaining steps and leaning casually on the banister beside Will. 

“Hello,” Will replied, a little tensely, his nerves shot to hell but still feeling quite pleased to see the man again. He had liked this jovial American, and he was grateful to the man for soothing his unease with whiskey and casual conversation during his first night in the hotel.      

“My friend, I am very glad to see you. I have something that belongs to you. I have no idea why, but here it is.”

The man pulled Will’s missing tie from his pocket with a flourish and dangled it over one finger. 

“Wish I could recall why you gave me this, but, hey, what’s a little memory loss between friends?”

The American grinned at Will amiably and dropped the tie into his open hands. He looked Will up and down in a gesture similar to the one he had performed upon his first meeting with Will, taking in his clothes with a smile. 

“Glad to see you looking a bit more comfortable. Your friend ease up on the dress code?”

Will glanced down at his outfit and grinned a little painfully.

“I guess he realised it would be pointless to try and change me,” he replied. 

“Smart man. Still, you looked good in your get up you know. Compromise. That’s the key.”

The American clapped Will on the shoulder and sighed resignedly, his gaze straying back towards the hotel’s casino.

“Ah, I’m afraid I will have to leave you now. You staying here another night?”

Will shook his head.

“No. Checking out tonight.”

“Well that’s a shame. I would have been honoured to drink with you again. It’s a rare thing to find a man who can hold his liquor! This world is a big place, friend, but maybe we’ll get the chance to drink again sometime. What can I know you by, should we meet again?”

“Will.”

“Will, it’s a pleasure to meet you formally,” the American beamed, shaking Will’s hand firmly. “Felix.”

Will gripped his hand and smiled.

“Pleasure, Felix.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...ok so I may have lied. Two more chapters and an epilogue.
> 
> Posting the last chapter/epilogue really soon, so watch this space! 
> 
> xxx


	15. Goodbye Montenegro

Will returned to the room without further interruption, opening the door and dropping his tie onto Hannibal’s lap without preamble. Hannibal turned the strip of silk over in his hands before smiling.

“I gather you located your American friend.”

Will nodded and pulled the car keys from his pocket. 

“Are you about ready? Clerk got us a rental.”

“Indeed? Well a nice drive to the airport will be enjoyable for us both, I think.”

They left the room shortly after, taking care to leave nothing of importance, but trusting the clerk to ensure the room was cleaned before the next guest was due to arrive. Will slung the suit cover containing his new dinner jacket over his shoulder, and he wound the tie around the top of the hanger, his poor treatment of the silk earning him a minute frown from Hannibal. They took the back stairs again, and Will shifted nervously as Hannibal crossed the lobby and went to complete the check out procedure. Busy scanning the crowd furiously for any sign of the man in the black suit or any other person who appeared to be taking undue interest in them, Will jumped violently when Hannibal laid a hand on his arm and informed him that they were free to go. 

Crossing the well lit parking lot, they located their rented car with ease and tossed their suitcases into the trunk. Will still held a small bag containing both of the arms dealer’s guns, which he was determined to keep until the very last, and he let Hannibal drive, grateful for the opportunity to relax. They swept from the car park quickly, and Will breathed a sigh of relief as they began to put some distance between them and the hotel. Watching Hannibal’s hands rest reassuringly along the top of the steering wheel, and listening to the purr of the engine as they drove on steadily into the night, Will fell asleep.  

He awoke with a start as the car lurched violently to the left before squealing to a halt, and Will heard Hannibal swear under his breath in a language he did not know. Will braced himself against the dash board and looked up in time to see a silver sports car speeding past them at a shocking rate of speed, the driver’s recklessness almost causing them to end their evening in a ditch.  

“What the hell was that?” he asked, breathless. 

Hannibal stopped the car only for a moment before regaining his composure and shifting the vehicle back on to the road. 

“Someone who believes they are the only one on the road tonight, apparently.”

Will allowed his head to fall against the car’s window, letting the smooth coolness of the glass press soothingly into his aching forehead. 

“We are never coming back to this country, Hannibal. I did say we should never have come here.”

 


	16. Epilogue

As Hannibal and Will navigate their way through Montenegro’s airport on their way back home, the man in the black suit is having a less than wonderful time. He is sweating rather profusely, and some of us may recognise the man he is speaking to as the Englishman who crashed into Will and Hannibal on the steps of the hotel. The Englishman is perhaps a little less well dressed now than he was then, but he still remains charming, and his manner is deeply infuriating to the man questioning him. 

Knowing that his life depends on the information inside this tiresome Englishman’s head is both terrifying and annoying, and the man in black is perfectly aware that this situation may not end well for him. Still, as he twists a thick rope dangerously in his hands, the man in black resolves that if it is to end badly for him, it will end even more badly for this exasperating and apparently indestructible Englishman. 

After a few more moments of vexing conversation with the Englishman (whose organs would already be separated from his body if they were not required for talking), the man in black is beginning to understand that he may be beaten. 

“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?” he asks, almost amused with the ridiculous nature of the situation.  

“No,” the Englishman smiles, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who is tied to a chair in the middle of a disused warehouse. 

The man in black kicks the Englishman over, and he lands heavily on the ground, his legs suspended comically over his head. 

“So, I think I will feed you - ,” the man in black begins, feeling for the knife tucked inside his pocket. 

His fingers close instead around a piece of paper, and he frowns, pulling it out and regarding it with some confusion. 

It is a sheet of hotel notepaper, and the letter heading embossed on the thick cream coloured paper reads “Casino Royale, Hotel Splendide, Montenegro” in fine gold lettering. 

Written on the paper in some suspiciously familiar neat block capital letters is one word: 

_“V E S P E R”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, me (and the concierge) saved Le Chiffre. Because he's a hot mess and he should totally have won anyway. Sorry James.
> 
> Well folks, we are at the end of Will and Hannibal's adventures. I hope you enjoyed them.
> 
> For every single person who read, liked, or commented on this fic: thank you. I honestly never expected this to do so well, but it's been so awesome to write something which has been enjoyed by so many people! 
> 
> I have some other stories for these two in the works, and I hope you will like those too. :)
> 
> Come see me on [tumblr](http://darkandtwistedthing.tumblr.com) if you want - it's just a baby one at the moment, but I also make fan art. 
> 
> xxx


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